Author Information
Jim Jones
Folder:
Which Do Not Belong Joined the new People's Temple today
where they all help each other
stroke the true face of God
where the faces are ashen, eyes are gray
Heard the ghost of Squeaky Fromme visits the place
when prison days have ended
light ceases to stream in
when dreams transport her through walls and through space
Listened to my brimstone judgement read
by a man with fiery words
sprinkled with amphetamine sweat
by a voice that insisted we'd all soon be dead
Drank some sugar-coated poison one night near seven
because we murdered our babies
no one questions God
because every one of us knew we were going to heaven
thank you, I needed that. how are you?